Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Singapore and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Silicon Teens to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Stetsasonic. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boogie Down Productions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Unwound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
The Mojo Men,
Freddie Wadling,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Joyce Sims,
Roxette,
T.S.O.L.,
The Leaves,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
R.M.O.,
Excepter,
Carl Craig,
Tears for Fears,
Siglo XX,
Can,
Y Pants,
Urselle,
Tommy Roe,
The Seeds,
Unwound,
The Raincoats,
One Last Wish,
Sonic Youth,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sparks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Saints,
Avey Tare,
The Smiths,
Juan Atkins,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Invisible,
June Days,
Silicon Teens,
Delta 5,
Monks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Los Fastidios,
Drive Like Jehu,
Crispy Ambulance,
Crime,
OOIOO,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Roxy Music,
Shoche,
The Searchers,
Brothers Johnson,
The Litter,
The Gun Club,
The Monks,
The Gories,
The Electric Prunes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Massinfluence,
Jerry's Kids,
The Fire Engines,
Susan Cadogan,
Sam Rivers,
Bill Wells,
The Remains,
the Slits,
Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.